


oh there's no place

by IsleofSolitude



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Foster Care, Holidays, Stark Family, Stark Family Reunion(s) (ASoIaF), the system is broken
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-04 12:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13364814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsleofSolitude/pseuds/IsleofSolitude
Summary: It's been five years since the Starks have been able to sit down for a Thanksgiving feast. Sansa has plans to change that, whether everyone is ready or not.





	1. Arya I, Sansa I

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is a holiday fic after the holidays. Whoops.
> 
> I'm drawing inspiration for this world from the books, the show, and my own desires, so while it's set in a more modern day universe, it's not completely set in our time, their country, etc. If there's any confusion I apologize, but I hope it's written clearly enough for you to get the gist as it gets updated.
> 
> I'm not sure how mature I'll be taking this story, but I wanted to be safe. I will add tags and warnings as they are needed. Please let me know if there's anything you feel I should tag.

** Arya I **

It had been Sansa’s idea, told first to Jon, then to Robb, then to the rest of their siblings in a group call, Sansa’s eyes bright for the first time in months (years possibly, but Arya didn’t know if they were bright in the time between sweet memories and the present, doesn’t know much of her sister’s story at all, truth be told), with Jon laughing and squeezing past her red hair in the tiny screen, with Robb’s gaunt face getting more and more animated as they explained the details. 

“Jon and I can go first, get it cleaned up and ready so that by the time Robb’s leave comes up, he can just pick up the other boys and join us. And Bran’s school lets out just a week before that, so there’s not a conflict there. And provided there’s not an issue with the paperwork, the timing is just right. It’ll be perfect!”

Arya had listened silently, chiming in only when directly commented to. At the time, listening to the joy in her sister’s voice and the big plans, to the hope in her little brothers’ eyes and chatter, she had felt herself smile, and after their goodbyes, Robb’s last echo of “This will be perfect” stayed with her long after they had hung up. 

The light of her laptop was too harsh against her eyes, so she shut it, letting the darkness settle in her small studio apartment. She shifted, looking out the window. The rain obscured the harsh city lighting, small streaks of the water transforming streetlights and neon signs into something nearing magical. 

Closing her eyes, Arya sifted through her thoughts. Trying to think about it made her stomach knot up more, and a hand jerkily ran through her shoulder length hair as she stood and gathered her keys and bag, leaving the silent apartment behind her.

Sansa was excited. Robb was excited. Jon was excited, Bran was excited, Rickon was EXCITED.

So why wasn’t she?

____

 

Just under an hour later, she let herself into a slightly larger, just as dark apartment across town. Not bothering to turn the lights on, she locked the door behind her and passed through the small living room and into the single bedroom, shedding her wet jacket, shoes and socks before she dropped onto the bed, not even bothering to get under the covers. Snuggling into the pillow, Arya closed her eyes. 

__

 

The lamp was on.

Groggily, Arya opened her eyes. The small alarm clock near the bed showed that it was just past three in the morning. It was still raining outside, just as steady but noticeably louder than it hard been earlier. She pulled the blanket laying over her closer before she swung her feet down and stood, rubbing her eyes with one small fist. Yawning, she padded over to the figure in front of the lamp, sitting on a stool at his desk, pencil moving quickly over a notebook. 

Reaching him, she lay her head against the top of his spine, hands wrapping around his waist. “I’m glad you were able to get back sooner than you thought.” Her words were quiet, but she knew he heard them over the sound of the rain and the scritch scratch of the pencil. Arya closed her eyes again, letting the noises bring her the peace she’d wanted. She didn’t care that he didn’t stop writing; it was three am and he was busy. She pressed a kiss against his spine in thanks for the blanket--her favorite one for rainy days--that she held, and could almost see the small smile on his face. The hand not holding the pencil briefly touched hers as she pressed closer to him, his thumb smoothing over hers tenderly before his focus when back to his work. 

It wasn’t too much longer when he set the pencil down, and she drowsily loosened her grip for him to turn to her, stepping between his legs to give him a proper hug. He kissed the top of her hair, hands sliding behind her back, mirroring her actions as she pressed a kiss to his chest. 

“What’s wrong, Arya?” His voice was as clear and quiet as always, but she wasn’t even surprised that he had been able to notice she had been upset. 

“I’ll tell you when we wake up. Promise.” She yawned, and tangled their fingers, tugging him to the bed. He followed, dutifully, and only minutes later they lay curled together, sleeping through the rain.

___________________________

** Sansa I **

She couldn’t sleep. Her mind was still whirling with possibilities. And as those possibilities grew and mutated in her brain, the growing pile of scrap paper--the first papers she could find as the idea outgrew her head--turned into lists: groceries and to do and brainstorm maps and timelines. 

The stars faded before Sansa did, finally sitting down to find a new paper and letting her eyes not open until the sun was well in the sky.

Stretching, the redhead changed her clothes and left her room. There was a note on the small fridge in Ygritte’s kitchen:  _ “Went to pick up groceries, will be back around 2” _ . It was in Jon’s handwriting, and she felt a fierce rush of affection for her cousin. After everything they had been through, he made sure to go the extra step to make sure nothing would worry her. She fingered the note thoughtfully and then grabbed a banana from the counter and munched on it as she went back to her room. 

Eyeing the pile of papers, Sansa again felt the rush of excitement that had been building all week. Everything was coming together.

The courts had pushed through the red tape. It had taken way too long, the system was inefficient and repetitive, but after months of diligence, she and Jon (and Robb, despite his difficulties being stationed miles away) had finally gotten their home back. 

_ Winterfell _ , Sansa thought, heart beating fast. And Robb would be home, soon, and then Rickon could get out of that damn  _ system _ , and Bran wouldn’t have to rely on the  _ school _ , she would see Arya again for the first time since a bullet changed their lives and they could finally,  _ finally _ , stop being afraid and hurt and heal.

Maybe she was already healing. The rage hadn’t threatened to drown her, the anger wasn’t choking her right now, it had been kept down by the sheer possibility of going home in time for the holidays. 

From the moment the idea had surfaced, Sansa hadn’t had to consciously hide her anger. And she was sure it wasn’t a moment too soon. Sometimes, Ygritte would stare at her a few seconds too long, and Sansa knew that if anyone would piece together the story she wouldn’t tell, it was the wild woman who had fallen in love with her cousin. Even Jon, who was oblivious to undercurrents, was starting to look at her with worry, more worry than when she had finally found him, half starved and bruised and exhausted. 

Ygritte’s home was small, a two bedroom house in the country, the nearest neighbor a mile away, bordering a state park. Despite Brienne Tarth and Podrick only staying a few days in the beginning, the house had been cramped and the inhabitants tripping over each other every day. Some part of Sansa was comforted by the influx of people, but the larger part of her was stressed, anxious over the touching and noise and sheer comfort. 

It would be good to get home, to get to Winterfell, where there would be room for them to all gather, where there would be no one to hear her scream, where she could release her anger in private, where she could cry in private and not worry about Jon or Ygritte hearing her. 

Winterfell was home, and Sansa wanted to be home, where she could be safe.

Looking at her lists, Sansa grinned and grabbed her notebook. It was time to plan. 


	2. Jon I, Robb I

**Jon I**  

Ygritte drove the same way she did everything: straightforward, fast, and leaving Jon with overwhelming awe and the slightest bit of terror.

The groceries bounced in the back of her old jeep, and he winced as they avoided yet another pothole, and Jon mouthed Ygritte’s curse of “those fucking crows” with her. The long standing feud between the government of this county and it’s citizens was something he had learned on his first day of employment with the State, but he had never realized how deep it ran until much later in his job. And even then, it had taken meeting Ygritte for him to realize the depth of both sides.

He let himself study her for a moment, eyes clear and focused on the road, fierce red hair bundled back as best she could, until she glanced at him.

“What, do I have something on my face, Jon Snow?” He chuckled.

“Sure do, right here.” He reached out and flicked at one of her many freckles, making her roll her eyes and laugh.

“So, what’s up with your cousin? She was up later than the owls, by the sound of it.”  Jon let his hand fall to her hip, lightly caressing it until she smacked it. “I’m driving her, crow.” But there was a smirk in her voice, and he left the hand where it was.

“If I had to guess, planning for the trip. She was really excited about it, and now that we told everyone, she’s probably eager to get everything set in stone. That’s how she’s always been, just like her father. Always doing things right, and by the books, and in plenty of time to make sure everyone knows.”

Ygritte nodded. “I’m glad. Hopefully it won’t be more busy work, now. ” 

Jon glanced at her. “What do you mean, now?”

“You haven’t noticed? Usually she just does busy work. Unless she’s sneaking away to hide.”

He removed his hand. “That doesn’t sound like Sansa. She has been nothing but helpful, hasn’t she? Is there a problem, you’re not saying she’s overstayed her welcome or something, are you?”

Ygritte glared at him. “If anyone has overstayed, you really don’t think I would have said something? You’re an idiot.”

Jon sighed. “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I’m sorry, you’ve been great with everything. It’ll all calm down soon, get out of your hair.”

Ygritte stared straight ahead. “When is Robb’s leave starting?”

“About two months, I suppose. We have to get the house ready before that, figure head down in a week or two to check on the place and see what repairs and such need to happen.” Jon looked out the window, calculating. “Of course, we have to also figure out everything else, and pick up Rickon and Bran, but based on the paperwork the damage to the house is mostly external.

Ygritte was silent, and Jon looked over to see her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, and a hard look on her face. The rest of the drive was in silence.

___

When they got home, Sansa was sitting in the recliner she had “claimed” since her arrival. It used to be Tormund’s, but he was relegated to the couch by both Brienne and Ygritte, and he had offered very little fight. Sansa was working on the small tablet Jon had bought her, and she smiled as they walked in.

“Do you need any help carrying things in?” She half rose, but Ygritte shook her head.

“It wasn’t much, just staples and what we’ve run out of.” Jon put his bags on the counter and started to help Ygritte put them away, but she shook her head and gestured to the clock. Jon looked, and cussed softly when he realized what time it was.

“Damn, I’ve got to make that call... it shouldn’t take me too long. I can help with dinner if you want?” Ygritte shook her head again. Jon leaned in to kiss her and she drew away, putting a whole counter between them, refusing to meet his eyes. Feeling like he had been struck, Jon looked at Sansa, who was just as confused as he was, and walked towards his and Ygritte’s room, to his laptop.

___

Dinner had been a quiet affair. After his call, he had showered, and from the room, he could hear the two women’s conversation flow , but by the time he had walked into the room Ygritte was shutting him out again. They ate in at trays in front of the TV, and between some procedural show they talked briefly about their days. When Ygritte stood and said she was tired, Jon waited barely five minutes before he bid Sansa the same. She had a worried look in her eye as she wished him goodnight, and he was sure his face mirrored that worry.

Ygritte was in bed by the time he slipped into their room, and he watched her for a moment, to see if she would turn, if she would lay into him and just tell him whatever he did to piss her off. This silent treatment wasn’t like her, her anger was scathing and came and went, she didn’t hold grudges, not to him. Undressing, he slid into bed and turned to her, propped up on an elbow.

At his soft “Ygritte?” she hunched her shoulders. Jon dared to put a hand on her shoulder. “Ygritte…”

She tilted her head up to him then, and the sheer misery in them had him turning her towards him and wrapping his arms around her immediately. She looked at him, and he was once again struck silent by the storm in her eyes: anger and sorrow, both deep and almost overwhelming, but determination in there too, as she seemed to make a decision.

Ygritte’s grip tightened on his arms, and she kissed him desperately. He kissed back, arms moving comfortingly over her. Jon had never thought himself good with words, but she wasn’t crying and she was still here. He could help her somehow, everything would be okay when they were moving together like this. 

He didn’t notice the desperation never left her kisses.

______

**Robb I**

He had never expected life to be this way. He was supposed to do his time in the service, possibly make a decent career out of it, or use his experience to transition to a path better suited for him. No one could have expected losing both parents within a year, and having his sisters disappear and his brothers lost to the labyrinth that was foster care. And he certainly never expected to have a mission go so horribly wrong, have a mission where he was the sole survivor and yet he wasn’t able to leave, was unable to find a friendly face for years.

No, nothing in his adult life had turned out the way he thought.

Sighing, Robb leaned back in the rocking chair. His body still ached, but the therapy had been helping. They were confident his body wouldn’t suffer any permanent damage beyond some above average wear and tear. In that regard, he had been lucky. Hell, some soldiers didn’t even make it out of boot camp without damaged knees and useless feet.

But soon this would all be behind him. Hopefully. The higher ups were still discussing it, still deciding his case. Extended leave and an eventual desk job, or honorable discharge? His body may still be somewhat functional, but was his mind? He had performed a messed up mission with a modicum of success, but was he lost in the aftermath?

Robb sure as hell didn’t know anymore. But at least his family was not lost to him anymore.

The sun was warm and bright against his face. The room was full of windows, and it was heated enough that the chill wouldn’t leak through. Born in Winterfell, Robb wasn’t sure if he would notice if it did, but his body was not the same so maybe it would. Soon, he would find out. Soon, he would be home--even for a little while--and be with his siblings (Jon was more than a cousin, Jon was brother in everything but technicality). He hadn’t seen any of them in five years, except for the all too brief video sessions.

Somehow, the fact that they were all alive was more gratifying to him than his survival. He knew what life could do to a person, and he had spent his time staying alive and worrying about them. With each new challenge, his mind would pop to his missing sisters. Every night, he would think of his younger brothers and fervently pray that they were getting through the day with ease.

Based on their communication, he knew that wasn’t the case. Jon had been strung along by lawyers for too long, and Robb knew how frustrated he had been. Sansa, when he had first spoken to her and after the initial relief, had shadows in her eyes and a pitch in her voice that gave him goosebumps, made him want to scoop her up and find out why. Arya, he noted, was no longer the arrogant chatterbox she always had been. She projected arrogance, but he could just feel something...off...with her during their phone calls. Rickon had been moody, switching between his childish enthusiasm and teenage sullenness based on the topic. And Bran was constantly distracted and vague, exhaustion in the bags of his eyes.

But they all lived. And they would be home, and together they could face anything, no matter how life had played out.

Robb absently traced one of his scars and hoped it was enough. It had to be enough.


	3. Arya II, Bran I

**Arya II**

She couldn’t hear traffic when she woke up, and for a moment Arya felt weightless. Then she breathed in the sea, and much closer, the smell of mint and spice, and remembered where she was, the vestiges of snow fading along with her dream. She shifted closer to Jaqen, happily burying her head back into the crook of his shoulder, slinging her leg over his, and breathed deeply, content to go back to sleep. 

Peaceful as she felt, she knew almost instantly she wouldn’t sleep anymore, and instead opened her eyes, pressing a soft kiss to the skin she lay on, and tilting her face to see if he was awake. Surprisingly, he wasn’t.  _ He must have just gotten home last night _ she thought. Sometimes he was gone for days when he was working, and she wondered if he had stopped at her studio before he came to his apartment. 

She let her eyes rove over his sleeping face, from the slight stubble on his chin and cheeks, to the red and white hair spread on the gray pillowcase. In the year that they’d been together, she had gotten familiar with his body in all ways possible, but he rarely was exhausted enough to be the one sleeping in. Usually he fell asleep after her and woke up before her. His arm was loose against the curve of her hip, and her fingers flexed against his chest as she watched him. Some days she still couldn’t figure out how she was here with him. Their first meeting was so long ago, and their paths somehow crossed not once, not twice, but three times...and yet the world was so big, how was that even possible?

_ “Boy. Lovely boy.” _

_ Arya looked up and around, before looking at the man who had spoken. “Me?”  _

_ The man--teenager?--was locked in the simple cell. The small town police station had only one cell, and Arya was seated at the the closest detective’s desk to it. The person who had spoken was leaning against the bars tiredly, blue eyes locked to hers. “A man has a thirst.” His eyes shift from hers to the glass of water Arya hasn’t drunk since the cop told her to take a seat and left to speak to someone else. She looks between the bottle and the man, who smiles at her. “A man hasn’t had a drink in a day and a night. A boy could make a friend.” Arya looked around, and then grabbed the water and walked over, slowly.  _

_ “Faster, you little shit!” A second man appeared beside the first, who shot him an annoyed look. This man was large and had a cruel look on his face. The first man looked back at Arya and smiled beseechingly, eyes tight. _

_ “A man does not choose his companions.” _

_ Arya approached and quickly tossed the water in the second man’s face. “Is that fast enough for you?” She taunted, while he snarled and reached through the bars cursing loudly. Arya snarled back at him and smacked his knuckles with the glass before stepping out of his range. _

_ The first man chuckled, blue eyes sparkling. “A boy has more courage than sense.” He appraised her thoughtfully, ignoring the irritated men beside him.  _

_ “Hey, what’s going on over there! Sit down kid, those are dangerous criminals.” The beat cop who had found her wandering the streets came over and grabbed her arm, tugging her away and glaring at the drenched man.  _

Jaqen’s hand tightened on her hip, and she smiled at him as his eyes opened and those blue eyes that she found so captivating opened and met hers. His lips twitched up in his own smile--just for her--and she couldn’t help herself, stretching up and giving him a proper wake up kiss. 

“Hm..good morning.” He kissed her forehead as they pulled apart, and she settled back into him, loathed to be fully awake. He rolled from his back to his side and wrapped both arms fully around her, and she hummed happily. They stayed like that for several minutes, just breathing and pressing lazy kisses to the other as the urge struck them. “A man was glad to find lovely Arya in his apartment upon his return.”

Arya grinned. “Did it save you a trip to my apartment?” At his nod, her grin grew even bigger. “Everything went okay then, while you were gone?” Jaqen nodded again, lazily tracing from her hip to her knee and back again with a featherlight touch. “Completely went according to plan?” At his huff of laughter, she rolled her eyes and hid her face.  _ So much for being subtle. _

“Yes, lovely girl, a man was unharmed during his work, that you know he cannot discuss details of.” He ducked his head and searched out her mouth with his. “But as to why Arya Stark was in his apartment, sad and lonely, that is still a mystery.”

Sighing, Arya rolled away and stretched, losing the last vestiges of sleep at the reminder. “Oh. That. Well, you know how I told you my family’s been in touch with me?” She couldn’t feel him nod, but she knew she had his attention. “Well, with Robb out of the hospital, and that private investigator helping them, he and Jon have finally gotten everything sorted out with Winterfell.” She glanced over at him, but only for a second before fixing her gaze on the ceiling. “All the paperwork is going to be finalized soon, and then they just need Robb’s higher ups to announce their decision, and Robb can get custody of Rickon and Bran.”

“That is all very good news, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It is. But then Sansa came up with the idea to host Thanksgiving. Since the timing is right. And she--and everyone else--started planning this super elaborate homecoming feast for everyone.”

“A girl does not sound excited.”

“...It’s been five years.” Arya sat up, knees drawn to her chest. “It’s been five years since I’ve seen them.” Five long, painful years since she had seen Sansa. Even longer since she had seen her brothers. It had been jolting to see Bran, pale and in the midst of puberty, and Rickon, chubby cheeks transformed into the start of a teenager. She looked over at her boyfriend. “I just..it’s hard enough to talk to them. And now they want me to go back to Winterfell.” She looked around then, at his sparsely decorated room, with the sounds of the sea coming through the window. How different she was now. The frost and quiet of her childhood home...they had existed only in her dreams for so long. “...What if it won’t be the same?”

Jaqen didn’t say anything for several moments, then he nudged past her and swung his feet off the bed. “When is everyone supposed to gather?”

“Robb has leave coming in about a month or two, when he finishes his physical rehab. Sansa and Jon are probably going down in a few weeks to see how the property looks, and see what needs to be done. So anywhere between that, I suppose. Rickon and Bran can’t leave where they are until Robb physically signs the papers and is able to pick them up.”

Jaqen took her hands from her knees and gave each one a lingering kiss. “Going to Winterfell, does not mean one must stay at Winterfell. ” 

Her heart clenched, and her hands tightened on his, trying not to show the sudden fear she felt.  _ I don’t think that’s correct, Jaqen... _

_____

**Bran I**

His head hurt. The teachers had started the third wave of intense teaching, doubling down on everything they had to teach before students took their finals, and Bran had been spending almost every moment outside of class doing all the work that they assigned. It was a good thing that Jojen was in some of his classes, otherwise he would feel completely isolated and lost.

Jojen was currently sprawled out on Bran’s bed, surrounded by note cards, as he checked and double checked his citations. Bran, at his desk, finally clicked “save” for the final time, groaning as he rubbed his eyes. Checking the clock, he was pleasantly surprised that it was still fairly early in the evening. For once, he had managed to finish everything before Sunday. 

Or, almost everything, he amended as he remembered that there was a test on Monday that he had to study for. But it was for history, which was one of his better subjects, and one of the last classes of the day, so there was no need for him to stress. Wheeling himself back from his deck, he headed over to his small fridge and grabbed a bottle of juice and checked his phone. He had one missed call from an unknown number--most likely spam but he’d check his voicemail later--and one text from Meera.

_ Tell that brother mine he left his phone in the classroom again, it’s at the lost and found.--Meera R. _

Bran rolled his eyes. “Jojen, apparently you have something waiting for you at lost and found.” Jojen looked up quizzically. As Bran shook his phone, Jojen started patting his pockets and then groaned. “Oh man. What time is it. Are they still open?” At Bran’s nod, he carefully got up, making sure not to ruin his piles of organized chaos. “I’ll be right back.”

_ Message delivered. _

He had scarcely set it on his lap and opened his bottle before she replied back.

_ Thanks. How’s the homework coming?--Meera R. _

Meera didn’t go to the same school he and Jojen did, not having the test scores, but she had been party to their misery more than once in the time their father had managed to get foster custody of him and Rickon. When they were still all in public school, the four kids would gather around the kitchen table and spread their work out and get it done as quickly as possible. Rickon, for all that he hated school, loved those times, and it was one of the few guaranteed moments of him being the old, happy child Bran hadn’t seen since before Mr. Luwin was killed. Jojen and Meera were both so patient with him, and sometimes Meera would put on the record player as soon as they got home. 

Jojen and him were still able to do their ritual, but they were a good hour from the Reed’s home. Bran typed out his reply-- _ All done, finally. How’s your weekend? _ \-- absently. He wanted to ask after Rickon, but he knew that if Meera hadn’t brought him up then things were as okay as possible.

His little brother had been so young when their parents were killed, and in his grief the other changes that took place were almost impossible for him to deal with. Just when Rickon was starting to get better,  their guardian Mr. Luwin was killed in that stupid car crash, and the state had taken them, making them leave Winterfell and everything familiar. It was only supposed to be for a few weeks, but then Robb’s mission went wrong and he disappeared. Despite the fact that they had eventually been able to live with Howland Reed, an old friend of their father’s, Rickon had already started acting out.

_ It’s fine. Boring, Rickon hasn’t sassed once since he was able to talk to Robb and Jon. Dad’s working today instead of Monday. Osha and I talked about rabbits today.--Meera R. _

The sixteen year old laughed at his friend’s reply. Not only did she know he wanted to know about Rickon, she also voluntarily admitted that she had listened to him and Jojen about being nicer to Rickon’s best friend.

Osha worked at Winterfell, once upon a time, but after Luwin’s death all the employees lost their job and their house sat empty. When Rickon had run away after Jojen and Bran had been accepted to their school, he had found her on the streets. The woman had done her best to take care of him until he was ready to tell her where he was supposed to be, and for that Bran would eternally grateful. Howland Reed, echoing that statement, had offered her a live in nanny position.

Before he could reply back, another text came in.

_ He’s been talking about going back to Winterfell a lot. Loudly. x_X --Meera R. _

Despite her words, Bran knew that was Meera’s way of saying that she was glad the fourteen year old was happy. He replied,  _ bet you can’t wait for the peace and quiet _ .

She didn’t reply for almost twenty minutes, long enough for Bran to fire up his favorite-and very neglected- game and for Jojen to make his way back. 

_ I really won’t...--Meera R. _

Even after re-reading it several times, Bran still didn’t know how to reply.

**_Saved draft:_ ** _ Maybe you can come too?  _ **_Draft deleted_ **

**_Saved draft:_ ** _ You and Jojen are always welcome to  _ **_Draft Deleted_ **

**_Saved draft:_ ** _ I miss you too. _

**_Delete draft?_ **

**_Draft deleted_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying this! It's my first GoT fic, and I'm having fun writing it. We have about 3 more chapters of "foreshadowing" before we get into the "plot heavy" chapters. =)


	4. Sansa II, Rickon I

**Sansa II**

_ Joffrey’s golden hair lifted gently as the breeze blew through the balcony. His mouth was moving, but the voice, the words, were all wrong. _

_ “Shh, don’t worry...I’ll keep you safe.” _

_ Joffrey came closer, hand on her shoulder, and suddenly she was in the cafeteria, watching in horror as Arya smacked her crush with a tray, busting his lip open. He turned angry eyes on her, and then she was running, the janitor’s hand clammy in her own as they fled down the hallway, busting through the doors into a clear blue day-- _

_ \--Suddenly she’s choking, she can’t breathe, and bright swamp eyes fill her vision and she can’t breathe, can’t talk, there’s nothing but void, not cold not chilly just nothing pain pain stop! _

Sansa screamed as she jerked awake, bonking her head painfully against the wall. She scrambled out of the blanket until the corner of the wall was cool against her back, and struggled to control her breathing. A whining at the door caught her attention. Glad that her legs didn’t betray her, the redhead crossed the small room and opened it, letting Ghost in. The huge canine took up most of the bed when he jumped on it, but she didn’t care. Locking her door, she wiggled between the white fur and the wall. As Ghost whined again and licked her hand, she could feel her panic subside, faster than it usually did. Sansa buried her face against him. 

“Thank you.” 

___

When Jon and Ygritte woke up, she had already made pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Jon stumbled in first, bleary eyed and shirtless. Sansa turned to greet him and almost dropped her skillet before recovering.

“Morning.” He yawned. “Whatcha making?” Ghost barked at him, happily showing off the bacon in his mouth. “Oh man, soon he’s going to love you more than me if you keep that up.” 

Sansa laughed. “Can’t help. He’s a good boy.” She looked at him again and rolled her eyes, smirking. “Up late last night?” At his confused look, she pointed at him.

“What?” He looked down at himself and his pale complexion turned bright red as he noticed the bite marks across his torso. “Shit! Uhm.” He took back off towards the bedroom, and Sansa giggled as she noticed the long scratch marks that ran down his back. Barely a minute after he left, she heard Ygritte’s loud laughter explode from their room, and Sansa giggled harder.

When he returned a few moments later, He was wearing a shirt and trailing behind Ygritte, hand in hand. Sansa nodded at them in greeting and motioned to the table. “Everything’s ready, just help yourself.” They did so, Ygritte playfully bumping his hip as they maneuvered through the too-small space, and Jon more than once took the opportunity to play with her hair or hands, drawing more and more shine into her eyes as she pretended to be unaffected. Their not-quite-subtle antics ended with Jon getting her a glass of juice and Ygritte switching their plates while he did so he got the bigger portion of eggs.

As they fixed themselves plates, Sansa grabbed herself a cup of coffee and dropped another piece of bacon beside her chair to bribe Ghost over to her side as she ate. The group was silent for a while, digging into the food as if none had eaten in weeks.

“This is good, Sansa.” Jon commented, finally breaking the comfortable silence.

Absently thanking him, she asked “What do you have going on today? I was hoping we could figure out which contractor we are gonna use and then set up an appointment for when we get to the house.”

Jon thought for a moment. “I have to do some work, but I should be free in a few hours.” He looked at Ygritte. “Wait, what’s today? Is today the day we said we’d help Tormund with his busted fence?”

Ygritte didn’t bother swallowing her egg before she responded. “Yes, Jon Snow, that was today. But it doesn’t matter, you can enjoy being stuck inside on a sunshine day, we can handle it without you.”

Jon frowned. “I said I’d help, it doesn’t feel right going back on that.”

Shaking her head, Ygritte patted his cheek. “We can manage without you. Work with your blasted crows. It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I can--”

“I said it’s  **fine** , Jon.” Ygritte snapped coldly. Jon stared at her, hurt clear on his face, and Sansa hoped her flinch had gone unnoticed. Her fingers dug into Ghost’s fur and he nuzzled her leg. Ygritte sighed and her tone turned apologetic. “Help your sister, okay? That’s all I meant..” She stared down at her plate for a moment before she stood up. “Thanks for breakfast…I’ve got to get dressed and head over.” The curly haired woman made a motion to touch Jon but then hastily turned it into taking care of her food before she left. Jon stared after her in bafflement, and Sansa tried hard to not show that she had noticed.

They finished eating in silence. Sansa made her cousin a cup of coffee before she left to get dressed and he opened his small laptop. He flashed her a small smile and she couldn’t resist. Sansa grasped his hand and squeezed it, giving him what she hoped was a comforting look. 

____

Later, after she had showered, she remembered the dream. Even with Ghost cuddles, she had not been able to get back to sleep, and had given up when she heard the morning birds.

_ “You’re a right pretty singer, aren’t you little bird?” _

_ “Little bird...your voice has a sweetness in it.” _

Sansa shook her head, pinching the skin of her arm sharply. She did not need to think of those words, nor of those people. 

She needed to get to work, to get  _ home _ . Where the only voices she would hear were the memories of her parents, and her family, in days long gone.

_____

**Rickon I**

“SCHOOL IS STUPID!”

“Hush, child.”

Scowling, the lean boy with a curly mop of reddish hair glared at his companion. “I’m not a child, Osha, stop calling me that.”

Osha scowled back. “Stop screaming like one and I wouldn’t use the term, child.” She passed by him from where he sat at the table, his workbook spread in front of him, and grabbed the milk from the fridge before grabbing the measuring cups. “And don’t make that face at me.”

_ How does she always know _ Rickon thought even as he denied it. Her snort made it obvious she didn’t believe him. He transferred his angry gaze to the absolutely  _ useless _ assigned homework in front of him. 

Meera usually helped him understand literature, but she was at one of her club meetings today, and wouldn’t be back until much later. He leaned back, crossing his arms and pushing the chair on its back two legs. He hated school. It had been bad enough when he was taught at home with Mr. Luwin, learning sums and dead names that he didn’t care about instead of exploring the woods their house had backed into with Shaggydog. And then he had to go to school via bus, where everyone was always talking and pushing and the teachers were always tired and muttering…

No, thanks. He hadn’t realized how much freedom was out there until he had left this house, and he did not like having to wake up while it was still dark, did not like having to spend the days in a stupid broken desk that your knees bumped into, did not like carrying his bag home with six books every night… There had only ever been one time he liked school and that..

He jammed his pencil into his workbook, the lead tearing into the thin paper satisfyingly.

Osha took the pencil out of his hand and tapped his knuckles with it softly. “Enough of that. Show a good effort, and when the muffins are done I’ll let you have first pick.”

The boy nodded sullenly, accepting the pencil back. He let out a small huff as she ruffled his hair, but set the chair down and diligently went to work.


	5. Robb II, Bran II

**Robb II**

“Do you remember the recipe for Mother’s potatoes? I know there was cheese and butter but something else, right?”

Robb shifted the phone to the other shoulder as he opened the door, getting in from the windy night air. “Uhm, I think maybe it was two types of cheese? And...ranch? Or ranch powder, something like that.”

“Maybe. I’ll ask Jon too. It’s a longshot, but who knows. And maybe some of the books are still there, I can’t wait until we get the keys and find out what hasn’t been looted or vandalized.”

“Didn’t Mr. Luwin get a lot of the stuff put into storage?”

Sansa sighed, the sound loud in his ear and causing a grimace that wasn’t from his knee. “Yes, but they were in his name temporarily and the people are giving Brienne a hard time with accessing it. Podrick thinks that they don’t want to admit they sold the stuff already.”

“Sorry, Podrick?”

“Yes, Podrick Payne? Brienne’s assistant, remember?”

“Oh, right, yes of course.” He had spoken to Podrick once, when the investigator’s assistant had gotten wind that he may have been in a hospital. He was a very hesitant but capable sort of fellow, if Robb judged him on just that conversation. “What do you think?”

“I think that Mr. Luwin would have had more than enough money and sense to have paid in advance. What that time period was is the question. Brienne is on her way down now with a death certificate and all the paperwork on our behalf to talk to them.”

“Remind me to give her a bonus when this is all sorted out. She definitely has gone above and beyond.” Shortly after she had departed from visiting Robb before his deployment, and before she had made it to King’s Landing to pick up Sansa and deal with the death of her husband, Catelyn Stark had hired Brienne Tarth, a private investigator, to help her track down Arya It had been one of the last things their mother had ever done, as she was killed in a plane crash on her way to her daughter. Instead of leaving it at just a down payment and a contract, Brienne had poured all of her time and energy into searching for Arya, and then for Sansa as well.

It had been Brienne who had finally brought Sansa to Jon, and for that alone Robb would forever be in her debt.

“Yes she has. And you know, she and Podrick have helped a great deal with the paperwork using Pod’s old lawyer boss. He’s doing it for free, mostly, as a favor.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right. What was his name again? Tyrone?”

“Something like that.” Sansa’s voice stumbled over the words, but moved on before Robb could comment. “But anyways, yes. A bonus and backpay. She has refused most of the money, but Jon managed to slip her some under business expenses and of course, Ygritte let them stay here after they lost the office.”

“That was nice of her.” Robb had not met his cousin’s girlfriend, Ygritte tended to avoid being around during any video calls, and while Jon didn’t speak much of her, even when asked a direct question, his cousin seemed to be happy, especially given the blushing and mumbling when he was asked very direct questions.

“Yeah. She’s been so great.”

Robb hadn’t been in the same room as his sister in a very long time, and until recently they hadn’t spoken in years, but she was his closest sibling in age and growing up together means you never really forget how to read a person. “But…?”

“No but. She’s been great.”

Rolling his eyes, Robb opened the fridge to contemplate his supper choices. “Sansa, don’t even try. I know that tone. That’s the “It’s not my business, but there’s something I’ve noticed” tone. So just spit it out.”

Sansa let out a small chuckle. “Okay. Fine. But she and Jon seem to be...not quite fighting, it’s something else. I don’t know, but I’m worried. They’ll be all sweet and then suddenly it’s like they are mad at each other or something.”

“That’s not good.” Unlike their old friend Theon, and even to an extent Robb, Jon had never really dated in high school. Ygritte was the first girl Jon had ever been serious with, and Robb hoped that after all Jon had been through he wasn’t about to get his first heartbreak at a time so much was finally going right.

“It’s not good. Maybe I’m over analysing it though. He acts as though he’s fine. Maybe if you were to ask…”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. I was planning on calling Rickon and Bran tomorrow anyways.”

“Thanks, Robb. Oh! Do you remember what spices Father used in the stuffing?”

Robb grabbed a cold hoagie and put it on a plate, resigning himself to piecing together a cookbook with his sister. He scowled at the pile of mail on the table, shoving it to the side. One fell to the floor and he picked it up, raising an eyebrow at the “Address Forwarded” stamp and then looked to see who it was from.

_Jeyne Westerling._

“Sansa, can I call you back later?” At her affirmative, Robb hung up and sat down heavily. Taking a deep breath, he carefully opened the envelope. It contained a simple one page letter.

_Robb,_

_I hope I have the address right. I don’t often send mail to the military so sometimes it’s hard to format it right. One of the guys you went through basic with gave me the address, I really hope you didn’t mind that._

_I ran into them a few weeks ago at a wedding, and they told me that you were in the hospital, and had just come back from your deployment. I know it’s been ages since we talked, but I have worried over you since I found out you were getting deployed, and now I find myself worried about you, probably more than I have a right to…_

_I just wanted to write to you and let you know that you had a friend, if you wanted one. I wish you all the best, and hope that you are okay._

_Your friend,_

_Jeyne_

Careful to follow the original creases, he folded the note back up and sliding it gently into the envelope, Robb set it to the side and focused his attention on his food.

His relationship with Jeyne had seemed a lifetime ago, and he couldn’t find it in himself to process that right now. Brushing one red curl from his forehead, he tried to remember the shape of her face, but he just remembered her nice eyes, the sweet hands that let him cry on her when he heard about his father...

Shaking his head, Robb cut his thoughts off. It was best to just not think about that right now. He had legal papers to read and a Thanksgiving menu to remember.

* * *

**Bran II**

At night, it was so easy to blame himself.

He had been the one to find the school in King’s Landing, the one that had a prestigious fencing program (what Arya had been begging for ever since her first time seeing Zorro) as well as a world renowned music program that would both challenge and inspire Sansa’s talents.

And Bran had shown it to his sisters, this little website with beautiful photographs, with an amazing archery team (which was what he had originally been searching for) and with reviews and instructors that sounded oh so amazing.

So his sisters, for the first time in years, joined forces to persuade their parents to let them enroll. And then it just so happened that Ned had an old friend who wanted him to do some work for his company, and the decision was made. After Robb and Jon graduated high school, they would head down to King’s Landing for a year and see if it worked out.

And then Bran had pushed his luck on a climb one too many times and finally fell (Though some days he still felt as though he was pushed. But who, or what, he couldn’t remember…). So they had agreed to leave the boys in Winterfell until he was further healed, and their father took his sisters to another city.

Would he, or his mother, or Rickon have made a difference that day?

Some people would say it was no use thinking about it, but at night it was hard not to.

Unless he was blaming himself for asking Mr. Luwin to wait until the next day to go meet the lawyer, because Rickon was having a bad day, and Bran couldn’t deal with it alone. So Mr. Luwin had stayed home on Thursday, and visited the lawyer the next day, spending hours with him and being hit by a drunk driver on the way home.

“Shut up!” Bran whispered fiercely, rolling onto his other side. He hated nights like tonight, where his brain insisted on replaying everything. They had started at the foster home, somewhere between having to sleep in a tiny converted laundry room on the first floor (no one knew what to do with an orphan in a wheelchair), and having to clean up another bloody nose of Rickon from where he had fought (or been fought) with the other kids.

Sharing a room with Jojen had stopped them, for awhile. But then Jojen had found a school that he was so excited about, and then he got excited on Bran’s behalf, and now Jojen was rooming with some other boy and Bran had a very nice corner room that was set up just for kids like him.

Wishing he had left his playlist on, Bran closed his eyes again. He tried to think of anything else, and focused in on his sisters.

_“Bran?”_

_“....Who is this?” Bran clutched the phone tighter. He couldn’t scarcely breathe, afraid that if he let himself think her name, he would be so disappointed if it wasn’t her._

_“It’s Sansa.” There were tears in her voice. “I’m, oh gods Bran, it’s me.”_

_“Sansa.” He didn’t know if he was crying or not. He mainly felt numb, but at least not in a bad way this time. “How…?”_

_“I’m with Jon. He’s here too, I mean, I’m at his house. We have been trying for ages to get your information, and finally they gave us your guardian’s number, and oh Bran., I can’t believe it’s actually you.”_

Sansa had been the one to fill him in on why Jon hadn’t been answering his calls, and then she had told him the most wonderful news: Robb was alive. Hurt, badly, but alive and expected to recover. He knew he had cried then.

And then, months later, he had been the one to find his other sister.

Doing a research project on Braavos, he had subscribed to all their news outlets, and then during one that talked about a simple traffic accident on a street, he had seen a girl slip out of black and white door and walk down the street. Bran had frozen, and then scrambled for the remote, dropping it in his frustration. He rewound and played it over and over and over again, each time reinforcing the knowledge that Arya was alive and in Braavos. Her hair was shorter and she was taller, but he _knew_ his sister.

From there, he scoured for information about that door, and it had taken him longer than he was satisfied with to hunt down a name: The House of Black and White. And then he called them. The voice on the phone had sounded surprised when he asked for Arya Stark, and said there was no one there by that name. Bran had insisted on leaving a message though, and when he called back again a few weeks later, he was told he had the wrong number.

So then Bran had sent her an email through her first email account ever, the one she had set up on Father’s computer and been yelled at for and told to delete because she was too young to have set it up. Bran remembered the name because it was such an Arya name, but he took a gamble on the fact that she reactivated after she had been forced to delete it.

_Arya, it’s me, Bran. I have so much to tell you. Sansa’s with Jon, Robb’s alive. Rickon and I are wards of Howland Reed. I saw you on the news in Braavos. Are you okay? I hope you get this._

He sent one to every variation of the name he could think of, and got so many “email undeliverable” responses that he started to lose hope.

But one went through. And then, a week later, he got a reply.

_By all the gods, Bran! Tell me everything._

She had included a number. He immediately had called Robb and Sansa and Rickon (Jon had still been in jail, and so Sansa had been the one to tell him) and no one had been able to stay dry eyed that day.

Bran’s clock read 2:07am. He let the glow settle into his eyes before he closed them, finally feeling sleep come to him.


	6. Arya III

**Arya III**

  
One of the first things that the elderly man in charge had told Arya was, “Never eat in that woman’s kitchen.”

That woman, of course, was a slip of a woman called Faith, who commanded the large kitchen space of the House of Black and White. Faith used her domain for various functions, some safe and many less so. “Everything is edible,” Faith told Arya during one of their lessons as she showed her the ingredients, “But you really shouldn’t eat it regardless.”

When Arya had shown up to the stand alone office building almost two years ago, the kind looking man at the front door had taken one look at her and raised an eyebrow. Arya had bristled at that, though she knew now how she had looked: Half starved, a rat’s nest for hair, her large eyes and horse face looking gaunt and wild and asking for a man named Jaqen. She didn’t blame the man--Cedric, she found out later, everyone went by first names only--had simply told her there was no one here by that name and the homeless shelter was two streets over, they’d take care of you, you poor thing.

“Are you even paying attention?” Faith never snapped, exactly, but her tone could produce such a deadly combination of disappointment and apathy that burrowed into Arya’s gut each time it was used--and it seemed to be getting used more and more the past few months.

“Yes. You said…” Arya somehow must have repeated the lesson back to her teacher, because Faith nodded and continued where she had left off. Arya let out a deep breath and squared her shoulders, doing her best to let her mind stay here in the present.

After their lesson concluded and Faith dismissed her, Arya grabbed her messenger bag and went up to the library, swapping out one chemistry book for another. Only then did she look at her phone.

_One new message._

She smiled when she saw who it was from and opened it up. It was just a picture, taken from inside a cafe of the street view outside. Studying it, she turned to exit the library and bumped into someone, causing her phone to slide out of her hands. Another pair of hands caught it even as she scrambled for it.

Cedric took a brief look at it as he handed it back to Arya. “Ah, the White Dolphin Cafe. Lovely place.” Arya smiled at him, taking her phone and slipping it into her pocket. “I do so enjoy their spinach dip.” He held open the door for her. “I know you are done for the day, but might I borrow a moment of your time?”

“Of course.” Arya walked into the hallway and turned to him as he took up his position beside her.

“Faith informs me that your studies are coming along splendidly. How are you liking the subjects?”

“It’s interesting, and it forces me to really think about what I’m doing. I like it.” In truth, Arya preferred many of her other lessons over the science lessons, but she had to admit that she was constantly fascinated by just how, with a little creativity, the natural order of things would get altered.

“That is so good to hear. Many of our friends hear did not think you would take to the training. Perhaps it is time for to adjust your duties here.”

Arya froze, missing a step as she tried to catch his face. He smiled gently at her, the same old, kind face as always. In the two years since she had been here, her only duties other than learning was simple busy work: Clean. Dust. Put supplies back. Occasionally she ran errands. “I...I would...It would be an honor, sir.”

Cedric beamed at her. “Wonderful! Run along and enjoy your supper, we’ll discuss this more another time.” He turned away from the door and towards the door to the basement as Arya continued towards the door out of the building. “Oh, and Arya?”

She paused, hand about to open the door. “Yes?”

He hesitated. “...It would serve you well to lessen your hours at your work, perhaps.” With that, he disappeared down the stairs.

* * *

Roughly twenty minutes later she breathlessly slid into the empty chair across from Jaqen, messenger bag dropping against the floor carelessly. His blue eyes slid over her, and slid a glass of water over to her. She took it gratefully and by the time the server had approached, she felt more able to speak.

“Are you ready to order?”

Arya looked around and grabbed the menu, quickly perusing it while Jaqen gave his own order. When it was her turn, she asked for just a regular club with fries. “Oh, and can we get the spinach dip appetizer?”

After the server left, Jaqen turned his amusement loose. “A man did not think his picture would be so hard for a girl to decipher. Next time perhaps a street name should be included?”

She scowled at him. “I knew where it was, don’t be absurd.” His smirk grew, and she ground her teeth. She had known the general area it was in,even if she couldn’t remember which street it was on until Cedric had named it. “I did!” He chuckled, and she blew her straw wrapper in his face, pleased to see it land in his hair.

Speaking of… “I was actually late because Cedric asked to speak with me after class.” Jaqen nodded. He was seated across from her, lazily people watching as he sipped from a glass. She leaned in and made sure to speak in a low, level voice. “He thinks I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, lovely girl?”

“He wants to adjust my duties.”

Now she had Jaqen’s full attention. His eyes zone in on her, but other than that he maintained his easy posture. Before she could continue speaking, the waiter came with her drink. She nodded her thanks.

“He said that my training is going well, despite some people thinking I wasn’t cut out for it--Was that you, Jaqen?--and he thinks I should get less hours at work.”

“That is good news indeed. And a good enough reason for forgiveness over your tardiness, one supposes.”

She shot him a dirty look. “Jaqen! I wasn’t late.” The spinach dip arrived, and she dug in. Cedric had not lied, it was delicious, just the right mix of salt and flavor.

When she looked up, he had resumed people watching, though she could tell he had his thinking face on. Shifting in her seat, she trapped one of his legs with both of hers and tugged gently. “Do you know what he wants me to do?”

The red and white haired man shook his head. “There are many possible duties at this time. A girl would be well suited for any of them.”

Something inside her eased then. Despite knowing that Jaqen had faith in her, sometimes it was nice to hear it from his own lips. She offered him the spinach dip and he scooted closer to help her eat the appetizer. “But you can’t tell me anything about them?” He shook his head and stared at her pointedly. “I know, it’s for the best.”

And it was, she knew. When Arya had arrived in Braavos, she had spent two days at the shelter before Cedric had come for her. Though he had never said she, she assumed they had contacted Jaqen to see what she was all about. When Jaqen had arrived six months later, she had been hurt at the cold distance he had maintained at all times inside the office.

* * *

  _He found her in the library. The one lone table in the rows of bookshelves was situated by the corner windows, and overflowed with books. Row by row, Arya carefully removed them, checking for damage before she would inspect, wipe, and dry each shelf. Only after that would she put the books back and move to the next one._

_She didn’t hear him come in, but she heard his footsteps--steady and soft- as he wound his way to where she worked. The fact that she knew, knew!, he was making his footfalls heard only served to vex her more, and all the anger and hurt from earlier simmered as she tried to ignore him. Let him see how he liked it. He propped himself against the bookshelf she was working on and she didn’t even glance at him._

_She lasted five minutes before she snapped._

_“What do you want?”_

_“A man had a desire to read.” And oh, there was his voice. Warm and amused and rich, not that flat monotone from downstairs. It made her madder._

_Arya waved her arms, still trying hard not to look at him. “Well, pick something then. Shouldn’t be too hard, with your limited vocabulary.”_

_He hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps a girl has a recommendation? She has been working so hard organizing and would not like her piles disturbed.”_

_Marching to the table, Arya grabbed the heaviest book she could and shoved it hard into his chest, hoping he tripped. Scowling when he barely stumbled, she let go, hoping it would drop onto his toes._

_“Thank you, lovely girl.”_

_“No!” She whirled, still careful to only look no higher than his shoulders. “No! You don’t get to call me that anymore. I’m just ‘no one’ after all. Just some person you met somewhere, isn’t that what you said to them? Or have you already forgotten that absolutely humiliating encounter? Just go away, go read somewhere else. I’m busy.” Arya went back to the pile of books, straightening them to enforce her words, and to hide the fact that her hands were shaking._

_She heard a heavy sigh behind her, and then Jaqen stepped up to her side, placing the book back down. He reached out one hand and hovered it over hers. When she didn’t react, he completed the motion, gently grabbing one of her hands and squeezing it. It was her turn to sigh._

_“Why? I know it’s been years since Harrenhal, but...I thought you’d be a little happy to see me here, at least.” She had been cleaning down in the lower levels when Cedric had found her, told her that Jaqen had arrived in Braavos. She had been so excited, and the man had chuckled as they talked, again, of their mutual acquaintance._

_It had only been hours later that she had finally come across him. He was walking in a group and she had rushed over, eyes soaking him in. He looked paler, his hair a little longer and less vibrant, but otherwise the same: striking blue eyes, long nose, strong chin and jaw. He was wearing the simple casual suit the members here wore. Arya had stopped just short of hugging him, tugging on his arm. And then he had been so dismissive, and the other people so scornful at her outburst, that when they had walked away, she had lost her appetite and skipped lunch, choosing instead to bury herself in cleaning._

_Jaqen reached for her other hand and studied them before letting go. He shifted and rested his hips against the table. “A man is very happy you found your way here.”_

_Arya tried to glare at him, but it lacked the earlier heat of anger. “Really? It didn’t seem that way.” They stood in silence for several moments, studying each other. Arya traced the spine of a book. “Where have you been, anyways?”_

_“Away, on a job.” At her scowl, he smiled at her. “That is the truth, and all that I can on the matter, lovely girl.” He started speaking, pausing to choose his words carefully. “This is the House of Black and White. Frivolity, affection, wildness, does it have a place here?”_

_Arya knew the answer. Cedric and Faith had told her about what the most important quality to have was. “No. You must remain in control.”_

_“Exactly. And a young girl is allowed, though not encouraged, to forget that. But a man must remain disciplined, no matter how pleased an old friend makes him.”_

_Pleased. He was pleased to see her? She felt her shoulders relax, and she finally looked at him, seriously looked at him. Yes, he was paler and older, but he seemed so...tired. Not like the man who whispered with her in dark alleys or would accept free coffee from the servers just for smiling at them._

_“So...we are friends?” The answer was so important, because she didn’t have any friends left, not since the last one she would consider a friend went and got himself killed._

_“Yes, Arya Stark. Friends. But while we are under this roof, it must be distant friends. Does a girl understand?”_

* * *

Arya scooped another chip into the dip. “I wonder what it’ll entail. I work tomorrow, so I guess I’ll tell Izembaro then. I wonder how many hours I should cut down to. What do you think?”

Jaqen tilted his head consideringly. “Three days, perhaps. The weekend shift only. Wouldn’t want to leave them without their star ticket taker during prime hours.”

She gave his leg a quick nudge. “You wish you had a job that easy.”

“Perhaps, lovely girl. Perhaps.”

Arya glanced at him sharply, sure she had heard a wistful tone, but the server had brought their food at that moment. The rest of lunch was spent quietly catching up, they had not seen each other in days other than a few moments. He always had an erratic schedule, and she had spent most of her days training and her nights working.

* * *

_“Anyways, Arya, I hope you are doing well, I don’t know why you never answer your phone, what keeps you so busy? Call me when you get this. Or, well, I suppose whenever you’re able to. Talk to you soon.”_

**_Delete message? Message deleted._ **

* * *

The streets were fairly empty for a Wednesday night, but she supposed the uncommon chill in the air explained it. She could have caught one of the last busses, or taken one of the many cars driving around, but walking gave her mind something to do other than think about her family.

She had thought they were lost to her forever. And now Sansa wanted to go back home and act like nothing had happened? That was just like her sister, to try and cover up the past with niceties and fancy food. Well, that wasn’t Arya’s way. If she went back it would mean…

“When I go back, I mean.” Arya whispered, shaking her head. Of course she would go back. If not for Thanksgiving then soon afterwards. They were her family, it was her home, and Arya Stark belonged there, with them. And she was still Arya Stark, even if...even if...

Even in her pockets, her hands were shivering. It’s really cold out, that’s all. The eighteen-year old picked up her pace, blowing on her hands for heat as she crossed the city.

* * *

Jaqen’s apartment was on the second floor with an outside entrance, and Arya cursed the wind even more as her fingers fumbled with her keys. Finally managing to get the tiny silver sliver of metal positioned correctly, she was startled when it swung open taking her hand and keychain with her. Looking up as she fell through the doorway , she let out a startled curse when instead of Jaqen, the black haired Kavon was the one who opened the door.

“Ha, you were right Faith. It was her.” Propping himself up against the door, he waved Arya the rest of the way in. “Get in, you’re letting the hot air out.”

Arya walked in, glancing around. In the almost eighteen months she had been coming to Jaqen’s apartment, not once had she ever seen other people in it. Faith was sitting at the small round table, numerous disassembled guns spread out in front of her. Kavon shut the door and sat at the other seat at the table and proceeded to resume cleaning.

“...What’s going on?” Arya asked, setting her bag on the couch and walking over, leaning against the counter. “Where’s Jaqen?”

Kavon gestured lazily towards the bedroom with the gun he was holding. Faith rolled her eyes and took it from him, shoving a new rag in his hand instead. “Cleaning up. He’ll be out in a minute. We have more important things to discuss.” He grinned at her, looking all the world like a cat who had just found a very pleasant bird to eat. “I knew you came here sometimes, but I never knew you had a key…” His voice trailed off suggestively.

Arya crossed her arms over her chest, scowling at him. “You didn’t answer what’s going on?” She motioned to the guns they were cleaning. “It’s not like you guys to come do such a task here, that’s usually done at the House.”

Kavon waggled his thick eyebrows at her. “You sure know an awful lot of what does and doesn’t happen here, an apartment that’s not yours yet you have a key for…”

“It’s because she wouldn’t stop picking the lock.” They all turned to look at Jaqen as he walked in, wearing only jogging pants, a towel situated on his shoulders as he continued to dry his hair. “A key seemed to be a better alternative, since she was still learning how to do it well.”

Arya couldn’t even voice a denial, because she had practiced on his door, and often caused it to jam after her efforts. Jaqen circled the kitchen, coming to a stop on the opposite side of the table from Arya. He ran his eyes over her and cocked his head. Satisfied that she didn’t seem injured, he looked at Kavon. “It sure is taking a brother an extra long time to do basic gun cleaning. Perhaps Arya should take over and demonstrate efficiency and focus.”

Kavon grumbled as he turned back to his task. “You’re no fun, brother. We’ll be done soon.”

Jaqen nodded and walked into the kitchen, pouring coffee into two mugs and handing on to Arya. She looked at it and saw that it was the one he favored, a light green mug with a large handle. He wasn’t mad at her, then. She was glad--this had never happened before. Faith, she knew, kept mainly to herself, but she didn’t know Kavon much at all. She had trained with him occasionally, and he was very good at math and computers--he had taught her how to hack into emails, which she had put to good use over the year--but he was away often like Jaqen.

Walking to the couch, she set her coffee down and took her jacket off. As the pair started to reassemble the guns, Jaqen waited until he caught her eye, and then gave her bag a pointed look, tapping his ear. Scowling, she shook her head. When he scowled back, she sighed and pulled out her music player, putting the headphones in and selecting a song to play.

Satisfied, Jaqen leaned over the table, and Arya pouted. The jerk had deliberately hidden his face so she couldn’t even attempt to lip read. She sat there, mocking them in her head, and admired the curve of Jaqen’s hips and the smooth expanse of his back. She really wanted to touch it...hopefully they would leave soon.

Finally, finally, the two did get up, packaging all but one of the guns in a duffle bag Kavon shouldered. He waved two fingers at Arya as he headed out, an amused glint still in his eyes. Faith shot Arya a curious look, and then said something else to Jaqen, who nodded. She left, closing the door behind her. Jaqen locked it, and then leaned against it, crossing his arms and staring at her.

Arya pulled the headphones out and tossed it down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were here.”

He sighed and shrugged. “It’s not a problem. Just...confirmation, is all. The timing is just...a bit earlier than is preferred.” He studied her. “Is a girl okay? She was adamant at lunch about sleeping in her own bed tonight…”

She fiddled with music, turning the song off and stuffing it back in her bag. Was she okay? That was the million dollar question it would seem. Sansa’s voice came back to her head, along with the 3 missed texts from her brothers she hadn’t responded to yet.

“Just...felt like a walk, and then found myself walking here.” She could feel his eyes on her, but she stared at her hands, trying hard to keep her face calm. Control, discipline...lately those things came so much harder to her than it used to.

She felt Jaqen crouch in front of her and twirl some loose hair before tucking it behind her ear. “Go lay down, lovely girl. A man will follow shortly.”

She nodded and let him help her up, her feet steady on the familiar path to his bed. She balanced on the edge of his stool as she removed her shoes and pants, and finished stripping before crawling under his covers. Closing her eyes, she let the sounds of Jaqen tidying up outside the room drift over her.

The door clicked shut and she opened her eyes. Jaqen eyed the pile of clothing she left on the floor and looked over at her, a slow, heated look rising in his eyes. “Lovely girl, are you wearing anything under there?” He sounded absolutely delighted as he slowly walked towards her, sliding the towel off his shoulders and setting it on the back of the bathroom door.

She sat up. “Your arm!” A large, ugly bruise was starting to show high on his left arm, and she threw the covers off. Hurrying over to him, Arya turned his arm to the light to see better. “What happened? You didn’t have this at lunch, did you?” She was certain he hadn’t, given the way they had said goodbye in the alley. She would have certainly noticed.

Her boyfriend--her idiot of a boyfriend--bore her examination patiently. “Not at lunch, no. It’s nothing, it will be gone soon.” Arya had never been thought of herself as gentle, but she tried her hardest to be as she stood on her tipty-toes and pressed her lips lightly to the wound. When she drew back, Jaqen was watching her with an expression that made her heart leap into her throat. He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb over her cheek until the back of her head was in his palm, and then he tilted down and kissed her thoroughly.

His phone let out a loud shrill, and he pulled away with a groan. Arya laughed and ran her hand down his stomach and tugged at his pants as she walked backwards to the bed. He looked at her amused and followed, fishing his phone out and unlocking it while she resumed her previous spot on the bed. Jaqen read the message twice, and clenched his jaw before setting his phone down and joining her.

“Everything okay?”

He rolled over and stroked down her neck, her chest, her stomach…”Everything will be better soon.” He purred, nudging her onto her back and settling between her legs. She giggled only for a second before he was kissing her again, and this time felt even better because the phone didn’t go off the entire rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cedric = Kindly man. I'm basing his looks off the actor who opened the door for Arya before transforming into "Jaqen" in the show.
> 
> Faith = Waif.
> 
> Kavon = Handsome man.


	7. Sansa III, Robb III

**Sansa III**

For as long as she can remember, Sansa has been called an overachiever. When she was little, it was learning all the notes on her violin before her second lesson ever, or getting all A’s on her progress report, even while in numerous clubs. She organized and created and studied and made things happen.

She stressed, hiding her anxiety in increasingly colorful, meticulous notes, using every pen and highlighter she could find to help stave off the panic as the deadline drew closer, as mishap after mishap occurred and she had to deal with it, all while smiling because that was who she was, the second oldest child, the firstborn daughter, expected to uphold the family name.

Her father would notice, of course. He’d walk by and see her packing a bulging pen holder into her backpack, or she would walk away for a moment from her planner and he would be there when she came back, standing there frowning down at the rainbow pages.

Then he would whisk her away, to the deli down the road with the best lemon cakes in the world and the worst hot chocolate, and they would talk: about responsibilities, and how school was going, about the latest movie to catch their attention, and he would always drop a kiss to her forehead and remind her that no matter what, her health was important, and that while he was proud she was so involved and capable, she didn’t need to earn love, she was love.

But it didn’t matter now, because Eddard Stark was dead and buried, next to his loving wife, because the monsters in the world win and Sansa wasn’t love.

Love wasn’t something broken and filled with rage, sorrow, secrets.

_____

It was a rare warm autumn sunset, the perfect ending to on of the best days Sansa had experienced since she had reunited with her cousin. 

Ygritte drove her into town, and the two redheads had eaten breakfast together before Ygritte had gone to work. Sansa then spent the next several hours exploring the town Jon had resided in for the past several years. The people were brusque but helpful should she have a need, and most ignored her as she made her way through the shops and streets. 

Jon had met up with her sometime in the late afternoon, and they had done the grocery shopping before heading back to Ygritte’s little mountain house. They had worked together in the too tiny kitchen to make supper, Sansa hopeless with the knife while cutting vegetables, and Jon sneering in disgust when he accidently touched the ground beef directly. They set aside a plate for Ygritte and then took theirs outside to eat.

The chill as the sun sank lower didn’t bother the woman, but she accepted the small fleece blanket Jon offered her with a smile and draped it over her knees. Jon plopped down into the wicker chair next to hers, a twin with mismatched pillows and one arm with broken twines poking out. Together, they sat and watched the sunset.

“This is nice.” Jon said softly, and Sansa regarded him. They had never been close growing up, Jon having come to them after his mother passed in mysterious circumstances, and the first several years of his life in Winterfell was him feeling like an outsider, something Sansa was, to her eternal regret, not quick to acknowledge or make an effort to reach out.

_ Well, that changes now _ , Sansa thought. “It really is.” She smiled at him and shifted her gaze back to the horizon. “This place is amazing.”

A small smile played on Jon’s face. “Yeah. The first time I saw it, it was full winter, and I was almost blinded half the time, it was so windy.” He pointed to a path through the trees. “There’s a hot springs in a cave down that way.”

Sansa gasped. “There’s a hot springs and you are just now telling me? You’re so rude!”

Jon chuckled, his cheeks turning red. “My apologies. It never came up.”

“And Ygritte owns all of this?”

“Yeah.” A flash of pride came over his face. “The government kept trying to say they didn’t, it was all caught up in outdated laws, and feelings festered on both sides. But after the whole ordeal with the avalanche, we managed to get it sorted out.” Jon smiled, lost in a memory. “And she poured a lot of time into getting it livable again.”

“She did a good job. You help her?”

Jon winced. “Not as much as I would have liked to…being in jail and all.”

Sansa cursed herself. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t realize--”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He shrugged. “I’m just glad that I was out in time to be there for you.”

“Oh, Jon…” But then Jon’s phone went off, and he winced again. She gestured that it was okay, and he answered it.

“Hello...Sam? Whoa, hey….Sam, wait…...take a breathe.” Jon stood up and paced off, trying to get a breath in between his friend’s words.

Sansa watched him go, then turned her attention to her phone. She read Arya’s last message to her again.

_ Work is erratic. Don’t call, just text me the dates.--Arya _

She sighed. Five years was a long time for people who had a good relationship to go without seeing each other, but for people who were already strained...Maybe Arya just didn’t want to talk to her period?

But then Arya should be talking to her brothers at least, but Robb and Jon both reported only sporadic texts from Arya, and Rickon and Bran got a few emails and some texts. Schedules for everyone hadn’t lined up to do more than the one group chat, but something niggled at Sansa still.

She typed out a message.

_ Okay, I’ll let you know by Monday what we have finalized. --Sansa _

She hesitated for a moment, then added “Where do you work?” to it and pressed send. Checking and seeing that Jon was still on the phone, the redhead went inside and grabbed both of them another drink as well as her notebook, and settled back down, her pen scratching away as she planned.

Jon came back and plopped into the chair heavily. “Sorry, that was Sam.”

“So I gathered. He sounded upset.”

“Uhm, yeah. So Sam has a girlfriend who’s pregnant, not by him...not that it would matter.” He held up a hand. “Long story. But when Sam’s contract was up, they went to his home to stay with his parents temporarily, but Sam’s dad just told them to get out. They have nowhere to go.” He looked at her beseechingly. “I offered to let them stay in Winterfell with us…Gilly is really good at fixing things, and Sam can help with the other stuff...Please don’t be upset.”

Sansa shook her head. “No, that’s fine.” 

“Are you sure? I know you wanted this to be a family thing--”

“Yes, I did, but I mean… It’s getting colder, and if they have a baby then they definitely need to stay somewhere. And you wouldn’t make the offer lightly, so obviously you care about them a lot…”

Jon sighed in relief. “Yes, I do. Sam’s been through a lot with me. You’ll like him.”

Flipping to another page in her planner, Sansa started writing. “So there’s Robb, Rickon, Bran, Arya, me, you and Ygritte, Sam, Gilly?, and a baby...then Brienne and Pod will be there for some of it…” 

“Uhm, about that…” Jon looked sick. “I haven’t...actually...asked Ygritte to go with us…”

Sansa stared at him. “What?” At his guilty look, she contemplated throwing the pen at him. “Jon, why? I thought...you act like you love her...do you not want her to come?”

“Of course I do!” Jon ran a hand over his face. “But she loves it here. She has what she has always wanted, and there’s finally a sort of peace...I couldn’t ask her to leave it to come home with me. She’d say no, and I...don’t want to hear that.”

Sansa shuffled her legs to the floor, uncaring of the blanket and notebook sliding to the ground, and grasped his hand. “Jon. You have to give her the choice, or it’s going to hurt both of you forever. Especially since you both obviously are head over heels for the other.”

He sighed again, and stared at their hands unseeing. “I know...I’ve always known our time was going to be short, but I don’t like thinking about the end.”

“Why are you assuming she won’t go with you? If she loves you more than she loves her home, she’ll go. If she trusts you, she’ll stay with you.” The smell of smoke was rancid in Sansa’s throat but she ignored it, and the feel of hands clenching into her shoulders in the dark. “I think...I think you both are being so silly.” She thought of their hostess’s demeanor since the news that they would be able to go home had come. “Just...talk to her.”

Jon nodded. “I will. Thanks, Sansa.” He smiled at her, though his eyes were still dark with worry. She grabbed her glass and clinked it against his. “Cheers.” That managed to get a larger smile out of him.

Ghost howled somewhere in the distance.

______

**Robb III**

_ Catelyn’s hands were chapped, but he still felt tears forming as he held them. “Oh, Robb...you don’t know how proud we are…” Her eyes, so much like his, were bright, even as the fingers in his hands began rotting away. “Don’t ever forget us, and take care of the family.” He tried to cling harder, praying that this time the flesh would stay the soft hands of his mother, not turn to bones and blood, but then there was screaming, and his sergeant yelling directions before a knife lodged into his throat-- _

Robb opened his eyes slowly. 

The dream had been the same for months. He could say that objectively, it didn’t bother him anymore. Waking up was easier, and the moment the dream began he could feel himself be aware it was a dream, and watch everything play out with a detachment that felt like ice.

Some part of his bones whispered that becoming numb was the opposite of healing. 

He stretched, and looked at his clock. It read 4:04am. Rolling to his feet, he plodded out of bed and into the small kitchen area, downing a glass of water. On the kitchen table was his laptop, and he opened it.

“Four new emails, huh? Who was working on Friday night?” He muttered, sitting down.

One was junk, and he deleted it immediately.

Another was from Rickon, a chattering message that ended in “I can’t wait to see you again”.

He had an email from Howland Reed, discussing custody paperwork and asking about travel arrangements. 

The last was from Brienne, and he read it. She had sent it to all of them, as Sansa had asked, and it described her latest efforts with the estate, and said that she would have the keys and paperwork completely done on Monday, so whenever they would want to come they could. Some part of Robb cheered, but the exhausted part of him could only manage a small exhale of relief.

They were going home.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any weird spacing, I'm still trying to get ao3 formatting figured out and perfected.


End file.
